


And Wait for the Morning Hangover to Come

by jashin_senpai



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Canon Disabled Character, Drug Use, Eating Disorders, Gang Violence, Inspired by Skins (UK), Multi, Suicide, The author cannot believe she's writing Homestuck fic in the year of Our Lord 2018, domestic terrorism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-05-13 23:21:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14758217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jashin_senpai/pseuds/jashin_senpai
Summary: “It's the moments we relive, it's the moments like this” - Momentz (Gorillaz ft. De La Soul)This isn’t an easy town to grow up in. Skins AU.





	And Wait for the Morning Hangover to Come

**Author's Note:**

> The official playlist for this fic is here https://8tracks.com/spacetoastcoast2coast/and-wait-for-the-morning-hangover-little-moments-mix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I could have been a better son” – Mama (My Chemical Romance)

 

_> be someone_

_>?_

_> sure, there are times where you can just follow along as a third-party viewer_

_> but this isn’t that kind of story_

_> be this guy?_

_> alright._

_> be Karkat (Current)_

You are currently scared out of your goddamn mind. Palms sweaty, knees weak, arms heavy.

 

Mom’s spaghetti, like some stupid fucking meme Dave would spout.

 

You’ve never had mom’s spaghetti. Kind of hard when your mum fucked off when you were a toddler and obviously never gave a damn about you. Not that you care or anything. You reckon she wouldn’t have made spaghetti even if she had stuck around, anyway. Your friend’s mums are mostly the frozen-convenience-meals-and-chippy-takeaways sort.

 

… Now is a bad time to think about friend’s mums.

 

Focus, Karkat. You get one shot at this, or you’re proper fucked.

 

Your arms really are heavy. The backpack feels like it weighs a ton and you’ve been loitering around the CPS offices all morning. No sign of the target. You’d be worried that you missed her, except her car isn’t in the lot or anything.

 

Your luck, she’s started taking the Tube or something. Be more environmentally friendly, wouldn’t it? Just the sort of thing she’d go for – Terezi always brings her lunch in a paper bag and everything.

 

Nearest stop’s three blocks away though. Too far to walk in those fancy lawyer heels. She’ll come eventually, you just gotta sit tight and be patient.

 

Sure enough, you catch sight of her car pulling around the corner soon after. It’s a fucking nice roller, all sleek and red and shiny. You don’t know shit about cars, if you’re being honest, but you’ve heard Tavros gush over it enough times to know that it’s got Class with a capital C. You tug at your grey hoodie so your face is even more obscured, but you don’t think she’d recognise you from this distance.

 

Everything going to plan, it won’t matter what she sees anyway. You should be more worried about the security cameras.

 

She takes her sweet fucking time getting out of the car, faffing about with papers and a reusable coffee cup. You’re practically hyperventilating by the time she gets buzzed inside.

 

Now or never, then.

 

You clutch at the straps of the backpack, white-knuckled, as you dart across the road and hop the security barrier. Breathing heavily, you duck behind the car and fumble with the zipper. For one terrifying second it catches, and you yank at it frantically until it tears free.

 

You double-checked the wires a thousand times this morning, but you’re worried something might have been shaken loose just now. You slap the bomb under the car, praying that it works, dreading that it will.

 

You’ve barely made it back across the street when the door of the office slams shut behind someone. You get a sudden, startlingly clear image of the sleek, black briefcase you’d seen lying on the backseat a moment ago and your blood runs cold.

 

Against your better judgement, you turn back just as Crown Prosecutor Redglare triggers the delicate weight sensor and the explosion goes off.

_> Karkat (Current).exe has stopped running_

_> access a cached version?_

_> you are now Karkat (Past)_

 

 

“Shut the motherfuck UP, Kurloz!”

 

In response, the muffled beats emanating from the room next door just get louder. You can pick out a few snatches of the random babble Kurloz and Mituna are spouting, and Dirk’s beatboxing underneath it all.

 

Gamzee growls wordless irritation and slams his fist against the wall, hard enough to make the door rattle.

 

“Just leave it be” you say, placating.

 

“They’re making a fucking mockery of the art, with that shit” he grumbles, but he turns around and throws himself onto his desk chair. He fiddles with the controls on his stereo, turning up his own music until it’s loud enough to drown out his brother’s (admittedly crap) attempts at composition.

 

“So. Best friend,” he says suddenly, spinning his chair to face you. “Not that I’m motherfucking complaining about quality hangout time with my best bro, but this is the third time this week. What’s eating at you?”

 

You scowl at him. Most people think that Gamzee’s thick, but you know that’s bullshit. He can be scarily perceptive when he wants to be.

 

“Got into another fight with my old man” you mutter finally, pulling at the bedcovers underneath you and twisting them in your clenched fists. “He took a swing at me again, so I took off.”

 

Gamzee reaches out to cover your fist with one of his big, cool hands, and you feel incrementally less shitty.

 

“You know you can crash here anytime. Mi casa es su casa.”

 

“Tu casa” you correct automatically. “How in the fuck have you been passing Spanish all these years?”

 

He shrugs. “Used to get Aradisister to help me out, sometimes. She was the motherfucking linguistic genius and all.”

 

Was. You swallow convulsively around the sudden lump in your throat.

 

“How’s Tavros been?” you ask.

 

Another shrug. “Haven’t seen him all that much since the funeral, like. Reckon a brother wants to get his grieve on in peace.”

 

You barely restrain yourself from rolling your eyes at that one. “You haven’t even tried to contact him, have you? Gamzee, if there’s one person Tavros would love to hear from right now, it’s you.”

 

He looks vaguely discomfited at that, which is probably more satisfying than it should be.

 

“I don’t want to be bothering him when it’s not wanted” he says, one hand coming up to rub at his neck awkwardly. “Don’t know where anyone woulda got the idea that a brother wanted me to hang around more than any other guy anyhow.”

 

You give him the flattest look you can muster. “I know you aren’t actually this stupid” you mutter, prodding at his shoulder with your index finger. Hard.

 

He gives you a lopsided grin. “If a brother don’t know what he’s being stupid about, I don’t know how he’s supposed to fix it?”

 

“I’m not the only one who notices. Dave keeps asking me if he should be worried about you taking advantage.”

 

“Fucker” Gamzee snorts.

 

“Even Terezi wanted to know if there was something going on between you two.”

 

Gamzee’s brows knit. “Don’t know what you want to be getting so chatty with _her_ for, Karbro.”

 

“Why the fuck not?”

 

“She’s” he waves his hand around vaguely, “you know.”

 

“I don’t, actually.”

 

“You _know_ ” he repeats insistently.

 

“I really fucking don’t, so either spit it out or get over it.”

 

“She’s a motherfucking snitch, right” he replies, and the answer is so ridiculous that it startles a burst of laughter from you.

 

“A _what_? Jesus, you’re ridiculous sometimes. I don’t even know how to describe what kind of ridiculous you are.”

 

“Her mom’s a cop” he replies, sullenly.

 

“She’s a lawyer, actually” you retort. “You’d know that if you ever paid the slightest bit of attention to your fucking surroundings, dipshit.”

 

“’S just proving my point, innit? What’s a lawyer’s kid doing slumming it at our school? Shouldn’t she be at one of them fancy motherfucking private schools?”

 

“She got kicked out of Saint Margaret’s for fighting.”

 

“Says who?”

 

“Says Nepeta.”

 

Gamzee eyes you sceptically. “Kittysister’s a sweet girl and all, but she ain’t exactly the most reliable motherfucking source of information, Karbro.”

 

“So what’s the alternative? She’s some kind of government superspy, here to bust you for being a piece of shit stoner?”

 

“She’d be more likely to bust Sollux, wouldn’t she? Or Dave, with all his dealing.”

 

You snort uncharitably. “Fuck, I’d pay money to see that.”

 

Gamzee sort of grimaces at you. “You know, for someone who claims to be a motherfucking master hacker, you ain’t exactly cautious.”

 

“Shit that’s right, I forgot to tell you! Guess who fucking has a shot at the big leagues?” you exclaim. “It’s me, by the way, if you were having trouble figuring that out” you add, before Gamzee even has a chance to react.

 

“I’m real glad you clarified that, elsewise I woulda guessed you were talking about Sollux” he grins.

 

“Fucking asshole” you huff, shoving at him. “No, I got a contact from someone high up in a group called the Midnight Crew, and he says he has a job offer for me. Which is obviously great if I actually want to make a fucking living from this crap.”

 

You can’t help but feel a little stung when Gamzee doesn’t immediately shower you with congratulations. His expression is curiously blank when he enquires “the Midnight Crew?”

 

Then again, you weren’t joking when you called him a piece of shit stoner. He probably needs a moment or two to process it.

 

“I just fucking said, didn’t I?” you answer. “Have you heard of them?”

 

“Can’t say I have, Karbro” he replies absently. He sort of zones out for a few seconds, like he’s considering something, and then he suddenly beams at you. “’S all kinds of wicked motherfucking miracles though.”

 

“’Course it is” you say, allowing yourself to preen a little. You’ve worked really fucking hard to get yourself noticed in the right circles.

 

“What kinda job is it anyhow?” he asks.

 

“Dunno yet. This guy – Spades or something, I don’t know, it’s a ridiculous fucking name – just asked to meet up this week so he could give me the details. Said it was safer in person.”

 

If you didn’t know better, you’d say that Gamzee looks faintly alarmed. “You aren’t doing something insane like meeting him alone or some shit, are you?”

 

“Of-fucking-course not. Do you really think I’m that much of a moron?” you grouse. “Wait actually, please don’t answer that.”

 

He raises his hands placatingly. “Wasn’t going to.”

 

“Fucking right, you weren’t. No, he wants to meet up at some café downtown.”

 

“Lemme know the details when you do? Then you can call me if you need backup or whatever” Gamzee says. “Ain’t much use having a best friend who’s motherfucking dead. Just ask Tavbro.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, stranger danger, got it” you reply, flapping your hand impatiently at him. “Let _me_ know when you finally fucking decide to do something about this pitiful crush thing you have going.”

 

“’S not even a thing.”

 

“Yeah, lemme know when you start packing your shit for Egypt, because you are so far in denial you’re practically sitting on the fucking pyramids. All hail Pharaoh Fucking Gamzee.”

 

Gamzee responds by putting you in a ‘friendly’ headlock, and he doesn’t let go until Mituna yells something about pizza from downstairs.

 

Gamzee’s dad isn’t home, so you end up devouring the pizza clustered around the ridiculously fuckhuge formal dining room table, straight from the box without bothering about plates.

 

“What’s new with you kiddies, then?” Dirk asks as he leans over to grab the biggest slice of meat feast from the box beside you.

 

“You lot are only a year or two older than us” Gamzee replies around a mouthful of extra-spicy vegetarian.

 

“Makes a big difference, little brother” Kurloz smirks.

 

“Yeah for one thing, we ain’t like, stuck in school like you losers” Mituna adds.

 

“Only one year left though.”

 

“Speaking of school, Gamzee seriously fucking thinks the new girl’s a government spy” you tease.

 

“You talking about Pyrope?” Dirk asks.

 

“Yeah” you reply, swallowing a large mouthful of greasy goodness. “How d’you know her?”

 

“Dave’s mentioned her a couple times. Crown prosecutor’s daughter, huh? Kind of a head trip, that.”

 

“Awwww shiiiit bruv, her sister came by the club the other night” Mituna leers. “She’s a fucking fine piece of ass, lemme tell you. I could plow that bitch for days.” He gestures graphically to demonstrate.

 

“Don’t be fucking crude” Dirk replies, languidly.

 

“She wouldn’t have you anyway, if she heard your shitty rapping” Gamzee adds. “No sane girl would.”

 

“Nah, nah, bruv. She wants me, I know she does. She’s gonna be aaaaallllll over this.”

 

“Less of the cheek, bro” Kurloz says, slapping Gamzee’s hand away from the last slice of veggie pizza so that he can grab it himself. “You can comment when you actually get out on stage and do something, ‘stead of just talking it up all the time.”

 

“Getting a couple of gigs at Daddy’s club isn’t generally something to motherfucking brag about” Gamzee retorts. He looks forlornly at the empty box, and then at you. “Best friend, d’you mind checking if there’s any more of the veg inside that box over there?”

 

You obligingly check the last unopened box, and almost physically recoil when you see the contents.

 

“What the actual fuck? Who ordered fucking anchovy and pineapple?” you demand incredulously.

 

“That would be mine” a raspy voice says from somewhere behind you, and you turn to see Dirk’s creepy boyfriend leaning against the doorframe, arms folded.

 

“Cal, hey. I was starting to think you weren’t gonna make it” Dirk says.

 

“Yeah, what fucking gives? You were supposed to be here hours ago” Mituna says indignantly. “We got some sick new tunes bruv, you gotta have a listen.”

 

“I can hardly wait” Caliborn replies sarcastically, returning the nod Kurloz gives him in greeting. He snatches his disgusting pizza concoction from beside you and stalks over to where Dirk’s sitting, looking at him expectantly.

 

Dirk obediently scoots his chair back so that Caliborn can perch in his lap, folding himself into it like Dirk’s the most comfortable armchair in existence. He starts devouring his pizza, glaring at you under his brows as he does.

 

It’d be more intimidating if he weren’t shorter than everyone else in the room, including you.

 

“What kept you?” Kurloz asks him, quietly.

 

“Business stuff. I’ll tell you later” Caliborn replies shortly, looking pointedly at you for some reason. “That is, if Mituna can keep his big fucking mouth shut for five seconds.”

 

Mituna starts protesting the accusation loudly, not really helping his case in your opinion.

 

“Well, we got school in the morning” Gamzee says, unfolding himself gracefully from his chair. “Karbro and I better get some motherfucking shut-eye, so try to keep your shitty music to a minimum, yeah?”

 

“Since when do you care about school?” you grumble, but you get up to follow him anyway.

 

“We’re probably heading out soon, anyway” Kurloz says. “Not sure when I’ll be home, but dad’s back tomorrow. I’ll take care of all this from tonight if you make sure everything else’s tidy in the morning, yeah?”

 

Gamzee sighs. “Yeah, deal.”

 

As the two of you make your way back upstairs to Gamzee’s room, your phone chirps from your pocket.

 

“Oh, hell yes” you exclaim, when you read the message. “That was the Midnight Crew guy. He wants to meet up at half-four tomorrow, at the Mutini Café”.

 

“’S that place down by the park, right?”

 

“Yeah, with the little cat decals in the window.”

 

Gamzee raises his eyebrows at you. “It’s also right around the corner from Saint Margaret’s.”

 

“Oh my God, are you ever going to give it a rest about Terezi? This isn’t a setup, stop being fucking paranoid.”

 

He holds your gaze steady. “You like her, whatever. ‘S your business. But if you’re serious about this hacker shit, you have _got_ to start being more cautious. And that includes keeping the motherfucking lawyer’s daughter out of it, alright?”

 

“ _Fine_ ” you snap. “I wasn’t going to get her involved anyway.”

 

“People get involved in all motherfucking kinds of shit you don’t want them to” Gamzee warns cryptically.

 

***

 

The next morning is dull and overcast, dark clouds overhead threatening rain. Thankfully it stays dry as you make your way to school.

 

Dave’s sitting up on the railing next to the bike racks, talking to Tavros, when the two of you show up.

 

“’Sup” he calls. Beside him, Tavros gives a little wave.

 

“Heeey” Gamzee says, returning Tavros’ wave.

 

“Man, you look like a douchebag” you comment. “It’s October, there’s no fucking reason to wear sunglasses.”

 

Dave smirks at you. “There are reasons, they’re just to complex to be understood by the likes of you.”

 

“Yeah, or, consider this. You’re a complete douchebag.”

 

Gamzee chuckles, sliding down to sprawl over the ground with his head leaning against the arm rests of Tavros’ wheelchair. “Karbro understands more than you think, Dave.”

 

“What the fuck are you even talking about?” you question, confused. “And get off the ground, you’re sitting right in the fucking dirt.”

 

“The world’s all full of serendipitous motherfucking coincidences, you know? Miraculous, really” he replies, waving one hand vaguely in the air.

 

Tavros laughs and pats his head fondly. “Yes, but uh, also, you should maybe get up before you get, um, mud all over yourself.”

 

Gamzee cranes his neck backward to flash Tavros an upside-down grin. “Nah. ‘S comfy down here.”

 

Fucking unbearable to watch, honestly.

 

“I’m glad to see half-term didn’t diminish any of your incessant idiocy” Dave replies. It’s said light-heartedly, but you kind of get the impression Gamzee’s genuinely pissed him off somehow.

 

“Hey, um. Speaking of half-term. D’you think Sollux will be back? Only he uh, mentioned that he might not be. After the, um, funeral and stuff” Tavros says hesitantly.

 

“He’ll have to, if he wants to finish his A-Levels” you reply, but you’re sort of worried that Tavros might be right. He wasn’t holding up great the last time you saw him.

 

The unexpected suicide of your long-term girlfriend was bound to put a fucking strain on anyone’s mental health, right?

 

“’M pretty sure he’ll be back, Tav. Mituna would’ve said something if he wasn’t”

 

“Oh yeah, that’s right. I forgot your bothers were uh, close.”

 

“Speak of the devil” Dave says, just as you spot Sollux walking up to the school.

 

The first thing he does when he approaches your little huddle is tell Dave “those sunglasses make you look like a douchebag.”

 

You can’t help the grin that spreads right across your face. Behind you, you can hear Tavros trying to stifle a giggle, as Dave scowls.

 

“You’re all plebeians” he says loftily, sliding down from his perch. “I’m going to seek the company of my more high-minded peers.”

 

“You won’t find them at this fucking school!” you call after his retreating back, and he flips you the bird over his shoulder.

 

“We’d better, uh, get to class, Gamzee” Tavros says, nudging him a little.

 

“Right, yeah. Class. What’ve I got first thing?” he asks.

 

“We have Spanish together, remember?” Tavros replies, trying hard not to laugh. “And then I think you have, um, Economics later as well.”

 

“That’s right. Thanks Tavbro, you’re a motherfucking life saver” Gamzee says, hauling himself to his feet and trying to brush off the leaves and clumps of dirt that are sticking to his hoodie.

 

You mouth “DENIAL” at him as they pass, but you’re not sure if he actually picks up on it because all he does is grin and wave at you.

 

“Oh my God, when are those two going to get a room?” Sollux mutters.

 

You snort, turning toward him. “You know you’re like the twentieth person who’s asked me that? It’ll happen when the two of them cease to be complete fucking morons, which is to say, never.”

 

“It’s physically painful watching them dance around each other. It used to drive Aradia insane.”

 

“Mmmm.” You’re surprised he’s able to mention her so casually already. “Are you– ”

 

“Karkat, if you’re about to ask me if I’m ok, I will break your fucking jaw.”

 

“Sorry, yeah, that was a stupid fucking question” you admit. “But we’re here for you, alright?”

 

“I know. I’ll see you in Computing later” he says, before heading off in the direction of the Electronics lab. You’re not sure he does know, but. What else can you say?

 

You head in the opposite direction to your Sociology class, nodding to a couple of people as you pass. You just know you’re not going to be able to concentrate properly today, not with the meeting this afternoon, the thought of which fills you with a queasy combination of elation and nerves.

 

Terezi’s already there when you arrive, tapping at her PDA. You slide into the empty chair beside her, with a soft “hey.”

 

She turns toward you and beams. “Karkat, hey! Haven’t seen you since the other night, what gives? You promised you’d still respect me in the morning!”

 

Ok, here’s the thing. You might possibly have neglected to tell your best friend that you asked Terezi out last week. And that the two of you had a very nice dinner date. And that you then went back to her place and made out until her lawyer mom came home unexpectedly and you had to jump out of her second-story window to avoid being seen. And that before you jumped, you asked her on a second date.

 

You know, little details.

 

“Sorry babe, I’m a love-em-and-leave-em guy. Breaking hearts all over town” you reply, grinning back even though she can’t see it.

 

She laughs heartily at that, and you get a little warm feeling in your chest. God, you like this girl so fucking much.

 

“Ugh, you sound like my old friend – or should we say acquaintance? – ’s older brother.”

 

“You mean to tell me people like that actually exist?” you ask, in mock-horror.

 

“Ohhhhh, yes. _Total_ creeper, this guy. He got turned down by every girl in his year, so every year he’d start hanging around with the juniors until they’d all reject him too.”

 

“Fucking hell. Please tell me you rejected him as fast as possible.”

 

“Oh don’t worry, I did. Some of my friends had been hit on by this guy for years already, so they warned me about him right from the start.”

 

“Good to hear! And his brother? Anything I have to worry about there?” you tease.

 

“You know perfectly well that you have nothing to worry about!” she grins, and fuck, her response is like a punch to your gut. You feel like you’ve been a little harsh on Gamzee about the Tavros thing, if this is how it feels. “Besides, he’s been in love with one of my other friends since forever. I didn’t stand a chance against a lifetime obsession!”

 

You’re just about to screw up the courage to ask if you can kiss her, but then the teacher arrives to start class and Terezi immediately snaps to attention. She’s so smart and focused in class, and you admire the hell out of her for it.

 

She confessed to you the other night that she wants to be a prosecutor one day, like her mum. You have no doubt that she’ll be fucking brilliant, blind or not.

 

You just don’t know how to reconcile that with your best friend’s inevitable disapproval, or the fact that your dream career is, by definition, incredibly fucking illegal.

 

***

 

At quarter past four, you’re standing over the sink in the bathroom of the Mutini café, willing yourself not to be sick. This is it, the meeting that’s going to make or break you.

 

You splash some water on your face and eye yourself critically in the mirror. There isn’t much you can do about your messy ginger hair, or your freckles, or your threadbare grey hoodie. You could have borrowed something nicer from Gamzee, probably, but he’s so much taller than you that it likely would have ended up looking ridiculous.

 

People don’t hire hackers for their looks anyway.

 

You take a deep breath and head back inside. The waitress – a skinny blonde girl with a cat print shirt under her black apron and very pink nails and lipstick – must have deposited your coffee at your table while you were out back. You take a fortifying sip, looking around at the other patrons.

 

There’s a big group of students wearing Saint Margaret’s uniforms in one of the corner booths. A guy with dorky-looking square framed glasses and buck teeth, his arm around a girl with dark blonde hair, wire rimmed glasses, and electric blue nail polish. A tall, elegant girl with artfully tousled short, black hair and green-gold eyeliner that contrasts well with her deep brown skin. A guy with swept-back brown hair, huddled in his stiped school scarf even though he’s indoors, and finally, another, shorter, blonde girl with rounded magenta framed glasses, sipping delicately at a pot of tea while the others devour a heaping plate of wedges and sour cream.

 

They all look around your age, and you wonder if any of them know Terezi.

 

“Vantas?” a voice asks from behind you, and you turn to see a tall guy in a black coat with a wicked scar over one eye glaring at you.

 

“I, um, yes. Yeah, that’s me” you stammer, hating the way your voice squeaks. Fucking embarrassing.

 

“Great” he says tonelessly, nudging the chair next to you aside with his foot and settling himself into it.

 

Out of the corner of your eye, you spot one of the Saint Margaret’s girls staring openly at the two of you. She frowns and pulls out her phone, tapping out a message with her stubby blue nails.

 

“Let’s get right down to business, shall we?” he asks. “You know a girl called Terezi Pyrope, don’t you?”

 

“Um.” Shit, what’s the answer he’s looking for here? The way he’s glaring at you, you decide that lying is probably not the best fucking idea. “I know, um, of her.”

 

“Don’t beat around the fucking bush, kid. My sources saw the two of you together the other night. Said you looked well cosy.”

 

“I, well, yes.” What the fuck? Has this asshole been _spying_ on you?

 

Jesus, Gamzee was right.

 

“Presumably you know who her mother is” he continues, and you nod mutely. “And you have some idea of where she works, and her schedule.” Another nod.

 

“Excellent. So what you’re gonna do for us is, you’re going to head over to Redglare’s office and plant a bomb under her car, and take her out.”

 

You laugh. You can’t help it.

 

“What the _fuck_? I’m not going to do that, what the actual fuck is _wrong_ with you?” you demmand.

 

He gives you a very nasty grin. “Oh, I’m confident that you will.”

 

“Fuck you, asshole. You clearly don’t know the first fucking thing about me” you snarl.

 

He just looks amused. “I know many things about you, Vantas. Which is why I’m so very sure that you’re going to help us out.”

 

“This was supposed to be a _hacking_ job!” you blurt out. “No one ever said anything about fucking murder.”

 

“Ah, yes. I saw your little stunt when you tried to break into our systems. It was pathetic. You’d be better off abandoning that particular fantasy of yours, trust me.”

 

“I’m calling the fucking cops” you bite out, moving to get up.

 

“Ah-ah. I wouldn’t do that if I were you. You wouldn’t want them to find out all the unsavoury things you’ve been dabbling in, would you?”

 

You close your eyes. Grit your teeth. “I don’t care. As long as we both go down, I don’t care what happens to me.”

 

“And your brother? He’s running for a council position this year. Be a real shame if his reputation was destroyed because people found out his little brother was a common criminal.”

 

“Kankri left home years ago” you say, but your resolve is wavering. “My reputation won’t make any difference.” But it would, you know it would. You could be responsible for fucking up everything your brother spent his life working toward. How could you have been so _stupid_?

 

He sighs. “So be it. I didn’t want it to come to this, but what can you do? I’ll call my associates and have them grab the girl. Redglare might be more sympathetic to our cause if we hold her daughter ransom, wouldn’t you say?”

 

Your blood turns to ice in your veins. “You wouldn’t.”

 

“Kidnapping children isn’t usually my style, no. But we’re running out of options.”

 

“I’ll do it” you mumble.

 

“What was that, sorry?” he asks.

 

“I said I’ll fucking do it, alright? But you have to promise you won’t lay a hand on Terezi.”

 

“She’ll be safe. As long as you keep your mouth shut and get the job done without compromising us.”

 

You sink down into your chair as he hashes out the details of the plan, an awful heavy weight settling down on your chest.

 

 

_> Karkat (Current).exe is back online_

 

 

You’re sprinting before your brain catches up, worn trainers slapping the pavement, heart banging madly in your throat. You can hear people yelling, and the faint sound of sirens in the distance.

 

It wasn’t supposed to fucking go off until this evening. Definitely not in broad fucking daylight with you standing right there. If you get caught…

 

No. You’re not going to consider that as an option.

 

You run until your lungs can’t take anymore and you have to duck into an alleyway, wheezing. You lean your forehead against the brick wall, next to a graffiti stencil of a blue spider and a green cat’s paw with a large cursive M in the centre.

 

You want to be sick. You remember Spades threatening to kidnap Terezi if you didn’t get the job done. You want to be sick. You remember Terezi telling you proudly about how much she admired her mother. You want to be sick. You remember seeing Redglare engulfed by the fire.

 

You are sick. Very sick. All over your trainers.

 

“ _Fuck_ ” you gasp, heaving against the wall. You are the absolute scum of the fucking Earth.

 

You can’t stay here. You need to find somewhere to lay low for a while and pray you don’t get identified as the culprit. If you can just keep Terezi out of Spades’ hands, it will have been worth it.

 

You yank off your hoodie and ditch it in the alley next to the puddle of sick, and start walking.

 

You didn’t really have a conscious destination in mind, but your body leads you to a familiar house with a neat hedgerow and a white front door.

 

The door opens when you knock, and a blessedly comforting face greets you.

 

“Gamzee” you sob, “I fucked up. I fucked up real bad.”

 

“I know” he says, simply. “Come in. We’ll sort it out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been calling this the Skins AU, but it's probably more accurate to call it a mixture of Skins and Durarara!!
> 
> Well, it's not as though anyone asked for it either way.


End file.
